


Park Ranger America

by Adolphus Longestaffe (adolphus_longestaffe)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, park ranger au, reaper76 summer event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolphus_longestaffe/pseuds/Adolphus%20Longestaffe
Summary: Gabriel Reyes takes a solo camping trip and learns to truly appreciate the beauty of the country's great National Parks.





	Park Ranger America

Gabe has just laid down the ground cover for his tent, when he hears the low hum of an engine, followed by the crunch of wheels over coarse, rocky dirt. He stands up and scans the treeline, till he sees the glossy white paint of a late-model Chevy Tahoe flashing between the trees, a hundred yards or so down the hill. He can see a broad, bright-green stripe on the side, and the words “U.S. Park Ranger” emblazoned on the door below it.

He resumes setting out his tent gear as the vehicle approaches his site. He expects it to continue on, but it rolls to a stop beside his black jeep, which is parked off the trail about twenty yards away. Gabe gets irritably to his feet and digs out his backcountry permit as the engine shuts off. He’s in a sour mood and doesn’t relish the idea of being hassled by some government civilian, but it’s best to just let the man do his job so he’ll move on. His expression changes as the Park Ranger climbs out of his vehicle.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he says under his breath.

The man looks like fucking Captain America. He is over six feet tall, and his forest-green uniform jacket fits snugly to his broad shoulders and trim waist. His drab-felt campaign hat, complete with the embossed leather USNPS band, sits sharp and commanding over his symmetrical, square-jawed face. He’d look more like a drill-sergeant than a civil servant, but for the large, brilliant blue eyes that sparkle below the brim of his hat and seem to smile on their own, despite his serious expression. He is, for lack of a better term, gorgeous.

“Afternoon,” Park Ranger America calls out, as he strides toward Gabe’s site. His voice is deeper than Gabe expected for someone with such a youthful face. “How’s it going?”

“Afternoon,” Gabe calls back. “Very well, thanks.”

He remains where he is and waits for the man to reach him—a good habit when dealing with armed officials—and he keeps his hands in plain view rather than stuffing them into his hoodie pockets against the cold.

“Park Ranger Morrison,” the absurdly handsome man says as he steps up, holding out his hand to shake Gabe’s.

Gabe shakes it briskly and hands him his backcountry permit and ID. “Gabriel Reyes.”

“Thank you,” Park Ranger Morrison says, glancing over Gabe’s documents. He hands them back and smiles like a toothpaste ad. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Reyes. We’ve had some reports of unauthorized camping lately, and we’re required to check for permits any time we come across someone using a backcountry site.”

“No problem,” Gabe says, less gruffly than he would’ve if the ranger’s smile weren’t so bright. “You’re not really interrupting. I’m just, uh…trying to pitch this tent.”

Ranger Morrison glances over at Gabe’s tent gear. “I could give you a hand, if you’re having trouble.”

“That’d be great, thank you,” Gabe says, before he can stop himself.

He doesn’t need help setting up a tent any more than he needs help brushing his teeth, but the ranger is looking at him with those extremely blue eyes and it’s making his head fuzzy and his ears hot. He’s pretty certain he’s actually blushing, but Park Ranger Gorgeous doesn’t appear to notice. He just flashes another incandescent smile, and goes over to inspect Gabe’s gear. The tent is a simple, two-person backpacking model, and despite Gabe’s attempts to appear incompetent, they have got the thing erected and are attaching the rain fly within five minutes.

“Good job placing the stakes,” Ranger Morrison says, stepping back to survey their work. “Good tent, too.”

“I just wanted to keep the bugs and rain off me without having to haul around twenty extra pounds,” Gabe says modestly. “This one seemed to fit the bill.”

The handsome ranger nods handsomely. “It was an excellent choice. Light, sturdy, and it looks like it’ll hold up to the weather well.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind tears through the camp, making Gabe’s tent flutter and flap loudly, but failing to disturb it otherwise.

“Let’s hope so,” Gabe says, eyeing the tent doubtfully. “Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure. So, what are your plans while you’re in the park?”

“Spending the night here, then hiking up to Llao Rock at first light, then Watchman Peak. Maybe Wizard Island, depending on the weather. If it’s bad, I might wait and try it the day after.”

“You never know. It’s been hit and miss this season. We’ve already had two more inches of rainfall than usual.”

“Wow,” Gabe says, as if he finds this mundane comment about the weather to be literally the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. “Gets pretty cold up here, too, huh?”

“It still gets into the forties at night this time of year, but you should be fine. Once fall comes around, you don’t want to be caught out without your cold-weather gear, though.”

“I’m literally already freezing,” Gabe laughs, chafing his hands together and shivering. “I’m from LA. Anything below seventy-five and all my blood goes into hiding.”

“Well, if you freeze to death in July, you’ll be the first. Speaking of which, you need help getting that fire started?”

“Oh, yeah thanks. I mean, if you’re not busy. I’m kind of an idiot about outdoorsy stuff.”

“Happy to help,” Park Ranger Charming replies, looking sincerely happy to help. “I’m not that busy, to tell you the truth. You’re the first camper I’ve seen out in the backcountry today.”

“That normal?”

“Not really. It’s been slow this season, with the weather and the late snow melt. I’m gonna grab my gear. Be right back.”

Gabe apologizes silently to his SERE school instructors as he watches the very athletic, very attractive blonde walk away toward his vehicle. No one could really blame him for a little harmless fib, right? Certainly not if they saw this particular Park Ranger. He doesn’t want to make it too obvious that he’s watching him, so he busies himself peeling the plastic wrapper off one of the cords of wood he’d purchased at the supply shop.

“What, you carry that stuff around with you?” Gabe laughs, as the ranger returns with a little spade in one hand and bundle of kindling tucked under his arm.

“Yes,” Ranger Square-jaw says seriously, clearly not seeing the humor. “It never hurts to be prepared, Mr. Reyes.”

“I didn’t mean any offense, Ranger Morrison,” Gabe says. “It’s just a pleasant surprise that I don’t have to trudge around collecting twigs for an hour. And call me Gabe, please.”

“It’s my pleasure, Gabe. And you can call me Jack,” the ranger says, his sunny smile returning. He sets down the bundle and holds up his little spade. “I’ll clear the fire pit, if you want to get your tinder ready.”

“Got it. Thank you, Jack.”

Gabe goes to his bag and pulls out a little rectangular tin, along with a black lanyard that holds his flint and striker. Ranger Jack is scooping old ash from the circle of stones and smoothing the fire bed. He eyes the tin and lanyard, then glances curiously at Gabe.

“There’s some dead grass over there,” he says, nodding toward a little hillock. “Might make a good nest for your char cloth, if you want to grab some.”

“Sure thing,” Gabe nods.

This blonde ranger is turning out to be unexpectedly observant, as well as hyperbolically handsome. He’d recognized what was in the tin right away. It must strike him as odd that a man who is a professed idiot about outdoorsy stuff makes his own char cloth and owns a waterproof fire starter. It’s not illegal to express a low opinion of one’s own outdoorsmanship, though, and he doesn’t seem to mind helping, so Gabe figures it’s best not to mention anything about it. He sets the tin on the ground by the firepit and stuffs the lanyard into his pocket as he hurries off to collect the dead grass. It turns out to be much too damp to be of any use, but he gathers enough to make a show of trying, and presents it to Park Ranger Perfect.

The ranger squeezes the yellow-brown fibers and shakes his head. “No good. It’ll make a lot of smoke, but there’s no way it’ll light properly.”

“Well, if it’s not against any rules…I’ve got a newspaper.” Gabe offers.

Ranger Jack squints, as if he’s considering it. “New York Times?”

“Of course.”

“Ok, I’ll make you a deal. We can use the newspaper, but only if I can have the crossword.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Jack,” Gabe laughs. “Ok, deal.”

When he returns from his jeep with the hefty Sunday paper, the unreasonably attractive National Parks Service employee has taken off his campaign hat. He is running his fingers through his silky, golden-blonde hair (which is miraculously free of any evidence of hat-head), and is frowning up at the sky. Gabe glances up, too, but the sky is exactly the same toneless grey that it’s been since he’s been in this stupid, rainy state.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“National Weather Service reported a thirty percent chance of rain for today,” the ranger says. “It’s starting to look like we’ll beat those odds. Hopefully your trip won’t be spoiled.”

“I’ve slept in the rain before. Nothing I can’t handle,” Gabe shrugs. He leafs through the paper, till he finds the crossword, which he holds out to him. “Here you go. One New York Times Sunday crossword. It’s a pretty good price for all your help.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ranger Jack replies. “I’m always happy to assist anyone who needs it.”

Gabe thinks he detects something odd in the man’s tone this time, but there is nothing readable on his face but sincerity. He folds his crossword and sets it on the smooth log near the firepit that serves as a bench, using a small rock to ensure the breeze doesn’t carry it away, then goes to work making a nest from a few sheets of the newspaper. There’s far too much, of course, so Gabe stows the rest in one of his waterproof bags for later use. Meanwhile, Ranger Jack has set aside the char cloth nest and is sticking pieces of kindling into the ground in the fire pit like a little circle of fence posts. Gabe squats down to help, and very quickly, they have built a neat little teepee out of dry twigs.

Gabe digs his flint and striker from his pocket and holds them out to Ranger Jack. “Do the honors?”

“Sure,” Ranger Jack says, smiling his Colgate smile again.

He holds the flint over the char cloth and rasps it a couple of times. The cloth ignites instantly and begins to smolder. He picks up the little nest and bends the sides inward, blowing on the center till a little orange tongue of flame leaps up from the paper. He slides the smoking bundle into the center of the kindling teepee and blows on it some more, then steps back to let Gabe add some smaller pieces of fuel wood to the outside. When the kindling has caught pretty well, they add more fuel wood, then sit on the log-bench to watch as their fledgling fire blazes up brightly.

“So, you’re from Los Angeles?” Ranger Jack says.

“Yep,” Gabe says. “Neighborhood called El Sereno.”

“What brings you all the way to Oregon? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Buddy of mine was born and raised up here. He was always talking about Crater Lake and how it was one of the most beautiful places in the world. We made plans to take a trip here after we—after the job we were doing was over.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Ranger Jack says. “Is he going to meet you here, then?”

“No,” Gabe says, keeping his eyes on the fire. “He, uh…I came up for his funeral. I figured I’d honor his memory by taking that camping trip we talked about.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Jack says gravely. “It sounds like he was a close friend.”

“Yeah, he was.”

They sit in silence, listening to the soft rush of wind in the high branches of the ponderosa pines above them, and the crackling of the dry wood as their little fire grows brighter and hotter. After a while, Jack rises and holds out his hand. Gabe stands up too, and shakes the proffered hand.

“It was nice to meet you, Gabe,” Jack says. “If there’s anything else I can do for you, let me know, ok? You can reach me by the park’s main number. Just ask for Ranger Morrison and they’ll forward the call.”

“Thank you, Jack, but I think I’ll be alright. You’ve already been more than helpful. Oh, don’t forget your crossword.”

“Thanks,” Jack smiles. He picks up the folded sheet of newspaper as he turns to walk away. “Take care, Gabe. Stay safe.”

He waves again as he climbs into his white Tahoe, and Gabe waves back, wishing with every fiber in his being that he could think of some legitimate reason to ask the man to stay. He glowers up at the trees as Park Ranger Amazing drives away, cursing them for their failure topple onto his tent, or at least drop a heavy branch or something. Fucking traitors.

As the flat grey of the afternoon sky darkens into the muddy grey of evening, Gabe begins to get unreasonably annoyed by the cold. He carries another cord of wood from his jeep and is adding some to the fire, when little drops of water begin to plop down and hiss in the embers. He stows the rest of the wood to prevent it getting wet and attempts to keep the fire alive, till the drizzle strengthens into a steady downfall, at which point he gives up and climbs into his tent.

He cracks an MRE and eats it cold, not wanting to bother with the messy oxidation heater. When he’s finished, he has to put his boots back on and carry the remnants to the bear-safe receptacle, though he pities any bear that might encounter him in this mood. He loves the outdoors and is more than competent in field survival tactics, but cold and rain are his least favorite weather conditions. It’s coming down in earnest now, and his jacket and knit cap get soaked on his way to dispose of his trash, which further irritates him. He hangs them up inside the tent, so that they can pretend to dry overnight and still be cold and wet in the morning.

He wants to get out of camp around dawn, and there’s nothing else to do, so he wraps himself up in his sleeping bag and extinguishes the lantern. The bright blue eyes and perfect, pouting lips of the Park Ranger flicker in his mind’s eye. He imagines what that mouth would taste like. Imagines those blue eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. That broad chest dripping with sweat and those muscular legs shaking. Just…fuck. He’s got lube with him, but he’s too cold and tired and irritable to jerk off, so he consoles himself with lazy, half-baked fantasies involving himself and the blonde Park Ranger in an isolated cabin, until he drifts off to sleep.

 

Gabe wakes naturally just before dawn. A decade of military service has honed his internal clock to a fine point, and he hasn’t used an alarm in years. He is pleasantly surprised to find himself warm and dry, despite the rain beating on his tent all night, and makes a mental note to leave a good review for it as he pulls on his boots. He checks his jacket and knit cap to find that they are still damp. It’s a minor annoyance. He has a spare jacket in the jeep, and he can forgo the cap. It won’t get that cold during his day-hike.

The sky is miraculously clear and he’s eager to get going. Most of the trails he’ll be using are easier ones and the later he gets started, the more likely he’ll be to encounter the only wild creatures scarier than bears: camping families. He limits breakfast to a couple of nutrition bars, along with some raisins and nuts (also taking care to get well-hydrated), then begins to pack up his camp.

Within an hour of waking, he has breakfasted, dressed, got his camp broken down, and packed his gear into the jeep. He carries back his own spade to scoop out and disperse the cold ashes from the fire. He’ll be back later, but he wouldn’t want Park Ranger Perfect to happen by and think he’d been an irresponsible camper. He can’t help but laugh at himself for this, though. As if the man would decide whether or not to sleep with him based on his campsite hygiene.

He’s probably straight, anyway. Guys like that are never gay. Probably has a girlfriend, too. A sturdy, outdoorsy type with red hair who wears hiking boots with shorts. With a name like Sandy or Linda or something. This idea strikes him as immensely funny, and he entertains himself by constructing various absurd likenesses of Ranger Jack’s hypothetical girlfriend as he finishes scattering the ash.

The sun has risen above the hills on the eastern horizon when he straps on his pack and locks up the jeep. He departs camp, headed slightly southwest toward Llao Rock. The hike turns out to be more of a stroll. The trail is extremely easy and takes about fifteen minutes to navigate, including stopping for a piss. Llao Rock’s cliff-face rises two-thousand feet above the surface of the lake, but the terrain is not difficult, since it’s part of the rim of the caldera, and the grade isn’t too steep on this side.

He’s not foolish enough to make the descent down the narrow ridge to the actual overlook without a partner or at least a belay line, but the view from further back on the cliff is more than worthwhile. The volcanic crater that forms the lake bed spreads out before him like a titanic ring, rising thousands of feet above water so crystal-blue and pristine, it doesn’t look possible. He snaps a few photos with his phone, but he won’t really be able to get a good picture until the sun is higher, so he decides to continue on to Watchman Peak before all the day-trekkers do.

As he meanders down the trail toward his next objective, he begins to be soothed by the meditative sense of solitude produced by the open, airy silence of the natural world. Gabe has always found the term “the great outdoors” to be repulsively clichéd, but here it is all around him, and it is spectacular. The broad sky and bracing wind, the whitebark pines, gnarled and hoary with age, which stood centuries before he was born, and will stand centuries after he passes. And even these are infants in the presence of the ancient, sleeping volcano. When he thinks if the magnitude of the cataclysm that saw the birth of this place, he is filled with reverent awe, as if he is standing on sacred ground.

Just as this feeling is sinking in, an RV thunders past him on the nearby paved road, followed shortly by a Subaru containing a large family, and what he can only imagine constitutes the entirety of said family’s earthly possessions strapped to the roof. This shakes him from his reverie and somewhat mars the natural serenity of the wilderness. He checks his phone and finds that it’s just past 0800. He’s been dawdling along, enjoying nature and lost almost an hour. He speeds his pace, hoping to reach the fire lookout before it fills with tourists.

He is surprised to find snow still lingering on the ascent to Watchman Peak, and is less surprised, though much chagrined, to find that he is not the only one who has apparently sought to beat the crowds by arriving early. The parking lot at the trailhead is nearly full already, and there are people idling about in pairs and small groups. Well, fuck it. He came here to see the Watchman Peak fire lookout, and that’s what he’s going to do.

He grits his teeth and heads up the trail, trying not to look as snarly as he feels, which would certainly frighten the many children people have made and brought with them. On the apron of the third switchback, he has to stop and wait behind a family (probably the Subaru contents from earlier), while the frazzled mother collects a howling child who had gone darting ahead and slipped on the rough scree. Her male counterpart attempts to herd the rest of the brood to the side so that Gabe can pass, nodding apologetically as he picks his way around them. Gabe responds with a sympathetic smile.

The fire lookout atop Watchman Peak is a two-story blockhouse-style building erected in the 1930s. The first floor is constructed from heavy stone masonry and has a restroom, of which Gabe takes eager advantage. The top floor consists of a four-sided observation room entirely enclosed in glass, and surrounded by a broad, wood walkway with log railings. The three-hundred and sixty-degree view of the park comes in handy for the Rangers, who still use it as an active fire lookout, and for park visitors looking to take photographs with which to bore their friends back home.

Despite the fullness of the parking lot, Gabe is pleased to find that there are only a few people actually inside the observation room. Aside from the Subaru family, there is a group of five twentysomethings on the deck, taking selfies with the lake behind them. On the far end of the room, at the window overlooking the lake, a hardy-looking elderly couple in khaki shorts and windbreakers are chatting with a Park Ranger.

Gabe’s stomach does an odd little flip as the ranger glances in his direction. It’s Ranger Jack, because of course it is, and of course he recognizes Gabe immediately. Gabe nods in greeting, and Park Ranger Perfect smiles and looks perfect. His uniform fits his athletic body like a goddamned glove, without a wrinkle or a misplaced thread. His hat is in his hand and his golden-blonde hair is even more golden and blonde in the brilliant sunlight.

Gabe feels and probably looks like a bag of smashed assholes. He knows he has a good layer of scruff around his usually meticulously groomed facial hair, not to mention he’s all rumpled and dirty from sleeping in a bag on the goddamned ground and slogging around in the woods all morning. His instinct is to flee, but the Park Ranger politely excuses himself from his sociable elders and walks over to him.

“Nice to see you again, Gabe,” he says cheerfully. “We got quite a bit of rain last night. How did the tent hold up?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Gabe says, attempting ‘cheerful’ and achieving ‘not quite homicidal’. “Tent held up great. Thanks again for all your help yesterday.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ranger Jack says, looking genuinely glad to hear it. “And you don’t have to keep thanking me. It was my pleasure. Much better weather this morning. How was the hike over?”

“I wouldn’t really call it a hike, but it was excellent. Beautiful country out here.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Did you get a good view from Llao Rock? The lake is spectacular on clear mornings.”

Gabe can’t help but smile as the ranger’s infectious enthusiasm begins to soften his surly mood. “I did. I’m looking forward to the view of Wizard Island from here, though.”

“It’s really something. Eighteen-hundred feet down from here. You should go have a look!”

“I will, thanks.”

“Oh, Gabe,” Ranger Jack says, his expression suddenly becoming grave. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. The National Weather Service is predicting thunderstorms this afternoon, so the boat tours out to Wizard Island have been cancelled today. I’m sorry you won’t be able to get out there. I know you wanted to.”

“It’s no big deal,” Gabe shrugs. “I can see it some other time. Maybe—” he catches himself. He’d almost said, ‘maybe you can show it to me.’ Good god, what has gotten into him? “Maybe I’ll come back up here next summer,” he ends lamely.

“You should!” Ranger Jack shines, instantly all sunbeams again. “You can’t see half of what the park has to offer in one trip.”

There is a sudden clamor of footsteps and boisterous young voices, and Gabe turns to look toward the door. A female Park Ranger is leading a group of children of varying ages into the observation room.

“That’s the Junior Ranger program,” Ranger Jack explains. “I’m giving a talk about the history of the lake in a minute, so you’ll have to excuse me. Say goodbye before you go, ok?”

“I will. But…would it be ok if I wanted to stay and listen to your talk?”

“Oh, I didn’t think—are you really interested?” Ranger Jack says, becoming a little flustered. “I mean, it’s pretty much what you could read in the visitors’ guide.”

That faint flush of pink color in the ranger’s angular cheeks is enough to strike Gabe dead where he stands. He has no idea what he’s done that could have produced this reaction, but he would give a limb to do it again.

He grins mischievously. “Well, maybe I want to be a Junior Ranger.”

“You can’t be a Junior Ranger, Gabe. That program is for six to twelve year-olds. But you’re welcome to stay and listen.”

“I think I might,” Gabe says nonchalantly, as if any force of nature could tear him out of this building while the handsome Park Ranger is in it. “I happen to be extremely interested in the, uh…”

“The history of the lake.”

“Yes. The history of the lake. I look forward to being educated.”

“Well, good. I hope you find it enlightening. I’ve got to go help Ranger Molly.”

Ranger Jack goes to assist his female colleague in wrangling the fifteen Junior Rangers, who have scattered about the observation room and deck. Within a few minutes, they are gathered around and seated on the floor facing Ranger Jack, who stands before the window to deliver his lecture. Gabe leans on the wall behind the group of youngsters, watching the handsome blonde illuminate his topic with energetic interest. Much to his surprise, the formerly rowdy youngsters appear to be totally captivated by his tale, and they sit still and quiet, hanging on every word he says. When the talk concludes, Ranger Molly asks if there are any questions for Ranger Jack, and seven of the little hands go up.

“Is Skell the sky god real?” one of the younger children asks.

“That’s a good question,” Jack smiles. “I wasn’t there way back then, so I don’t know for sure. But the Klamath tribe has transmitted their account of Skell and his battle with Llao to save their people for many generations.”

“If the water gets in from rain, why doesn’t the lake fill up all the way to the top?” another child asks.

“Another excellent question,” Ranger Jack says. “The water level is maintained by evaporation and natural seepage, which just means it soaks into the ground.”

“How do you get to be a Park Ranger?” another child asks.

“Well, there are a lot of ways, depending on what kind of ranger you want to be,” Ranger Jack answers. “Volunteering in the parks is a great way to start. You can be a seasonal ranger, too, if you don’t want to make a career of it. If you want to be a commissioned ranger like me, serving in the military helps, too, since it’s a government job.”

“Were you in the military?” a slightly older one asks.

“I was,” Ranger Jack smiles. “I was in the Air Force.”

This seems to impress the children greatly. A number of them ask simultaneously, “Did you fly planes?”

“I didn’t fly planes, but I did work on them.”

“Why do you got a gun?” a little boy wants to know. “Is it for bears?”

“No, it’s not for bears,” Ranger Jack laughs. “I carry a firearm as part of my job, since I’m a federal law enforcement officer. That’s just like a policeman, but for the park.”

“Who shoots the bears then?” the same boy asks.

“Hopefully, no one. The bears live in the park because it’s their home. As long as you follow your safety rules and keep all your food and trash in the correct containers, you shouldn’t have any trouble with the bears.”

“Alright, Junior Rangers,” Ranger Molly cuts in. “It’s time for us to head back to the visitors’ center for our next activity. Let’s give Ranger Jack a nice big round of applause, ok?”

The Junior Rangers (and Gabe) clap enthusiastically, then the children get up to follow Ranger Molly away. Gabe gazes across the room at Ranger Jack for a moment, watching as he returns some rock specimens to a cabinet, then he strolls over to join him.

“So, what did you think?” Jack grins. “Did you learn a lot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Gabe says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in the military?”

“It didn’t come up,” Jack says. “You didn’t tell me you were, either.”

“How do you know I am?”

Jack looks at him dubiously. “Are you serious? You’ve got Army written all over you. It may as well be stamped on your forehead.”

“Do I?” Gabe laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t have pinned you for Air Force. What did you do?”

“Guidance systems and SAT-COM. What do you do in the Army?”

“Oh…nothing interesting,” Gabe says, crossing his arms. “Just a grunt.”

“Ah, I see,” Ranger Jack nods. “Special Forces, then.”

“Jesus, how the fuck could you tell that?” Gabe says, too astonished to bother denying it.

“It’s a gift,” Ranger Jack shrugs. “Why don’t we check out that view of Wizard Island?”

Gabe follows the ranger out onto the deck, where they lean on the log railing and gaze out over the lake. Or rather, Ranger Jack gazes out over the lake. Gabe pretends to, while he uses the opportunity to surreptitiously study the man’s strikingly handsome face in the full sunlight. He thinks he could look at that face forever and never get tired of it.

A slight smile curls the corners of the ranger’s perfect lips. “It’s not polite to stare, Gabe.”

Fuck. He must’ve been less sneaky than he’d thought. “Oh, I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t—”

“Tell me something,” Jack interrupts, keeping his eyes on the lake. “If you’re Special Forces, you went to SERE school at the Mountain. So, why did you pretend not to know how to set up a tent or light a fire?”

Gabe had been entirely unprepared for this blunt question. His mouth goes dry and he feels heat rushing into his face. He is absolutely mortified, but really, what can Ranger Jack do to him? The worst he can do is reject him, which Gabe is pretty sure will be the result, no matter what he says. And if he’s offended, they never have to speak again, so fuck it. Fortune favors the bold.

“I didn’t want you to go,” he blurts out. “I know I wasted your time, but it was nice to talk to someone. I’m…an asshole. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Jack says. “Just don’t lie to me again, ok? I am a federal law enforcement officer, you know.”

“I won’t, I swear. And I really am sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Jack turns his head and looks up at Gabe with those impossibly blue eyes. “Since we’re telling the truth…I knew you didn’t need help the minute I saw you.”

Gabe is literally dumbstruck. He stands there blinking like an idiot, trying to assess whether this extraordinarily attractive man is saying what it sounds like he’s saying. Because it sounds a lot like—but that can’t be it, right? He’s not even gay. What about Sandy, his sturdy, shorts-wearing girlfriend? He doesn’t have time to formulate a response. Just then, there is a blinding flash of light and an earsplitting boom. Gabe nearly jumps out of his skin. Ranger Jack does not. He replaces his hat on his head and looks up at the sky, which has been steadily filling with dark, roiling thunderheads while they’ve been in the lookout.

“Looks like that thunderstorm is early,” he says. “You want a ride back to your jeep?”

Gabe nods and follows Jack into the observation room, then down the stairs leading to the trail. Despite his survival training, he feels somehow far less competent and calm than this Park Ranger, who looks perfectly at ease. As they descend the slope, the wind kicks up into a gale, and blows dust into Gabe’s eyes, so he has to squint and blink in order to see where he’s going. Perfect. He’ll probably fall and embarrass himself some more. He is just thinking this, when some loose scree slides underfoot. His hands fly out to grasp at nothing as he loses his balance and goes tumbling backward.

He should have ended up on his ass, but somehow, Ranger Jack’s strong arms are already around him, seizing him mid-fall and steadying him on his feet. Gabe cannot understand how this is possible. He’d been a few paces ahead, and shouldn’t even have seen him slip, let alone had time to catch him. But his eyes had been full of dust and he hadn’t seen the rocks in the path either, so he isn’t inclined to question it.

“You alright?” Jack calls out, above the noise of the wind.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Gabe calls back, heart pounding in his throat. “Let’s get out of here before I make any more of an ass of myself.”

Jack gives him a thumbs-up, and they continue down the incline. The storm clouds burst before they reach the bottom, and by the time they reach Jack’s vehicle, they are soaked to the skin. Gabe climbs in and tosses his pack on the floor behind his seat. Jack pulls the driver’s side door shut and removes his drenched hat, which is also tossed into the back.

“Well, you can’t set up your camp in this,” Jack says, peering up through the windshield at the deluge outside. “I can take you to your jeep and you can drive over to Rim Village or the lodge, or you can come back to my station with me and wait it out.”

“Am I even allowed in your station?” Gabe asks. “Isn’t that sort of an…official business only type place?”

“Keeping park visitors safe in severe weather conditions is official business, Mr. Reyes,” Jack says solemnly. “You are more than welcome to wait there till the storm clears.”

He’s talked this way since they met yesterday, but this time, Gabe definitely detects a twinkle in those blue eyes. It hadn’t occurred to him that the ranger might be fully aware of his stiff, Eagle Scout demeanor, and may even be capable of making fun of himself for it. Ranger Jack is turning out to be a very interesting man.

He crosses his arms and eyes him thoughtfully, as if weighing this proposition. “I don’t know. What’s the coffee situation like?”

“Fresh-brewed by yours truly,” Jack grins.

“Deal,” Gabe says. “Ranger station it is. Unless Rim Village is as fun as it sounds.”

Ranger Jack either misses or chooses to ignore this joke, and they engage in desultory chit-chat about the road conditions as they make the bumpy drive to Jack’s ranger station. Gabe can’t manage much more, since he is using all the energy in his body to will the rain to continue. It would be a literal tragedy to lose this opportunity to spend more time with this extraordinary man. Fortunately, Skell the sky god appears to be on his side. The rain shows no signs of letting up, and in fact, seems to have intensified.

They turn off the north entrance road onto a gravel drive, and Jack parks the vehicle in front of their destination. Gabe had expected the ranger station to be a square, ugly government building. Instead, he is looking at a quaint little stone-walled cabin with a peaked roof covered in dark green shingles. It looks so much like a gingerbread house, he almost laughs out loud. It even has white-paned windows.

They grab Gabe’s bag and Jack’s hat and jog to the front door, despite the fact that this a futile exercise, since they were already soaked. Jack unlocks the door and Gabe follows him inside, then stops short, blinking about confusedly.

“This is your ranger station?” he asks.

“Yep, this is it,” Jack says, flipping on a light switch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…I thought a ranger station would be more like a police station or the lookout. This looks like—”

“A house?”

“Yeah.”

“It is,” Jack says. “It’s my ranger station and it’s my house. Well, it’s mine while I’m employed with the park.”

“You…live here?”

“I do. It’s pretty common for National Parks Service employees to be given a residence on site. Especially full-time, permanent employees who work in extreme climates. I’m not the only ranger who lives at the park.”

“Oh. Well, thank you for inviting me. I didn’t know you lived here, or I’d have been more careful about intruding like this.”

“It’s really no trouble, Gabe,” Jack smiles. “I keep telling you, I’m happy to help.”

Gabe stands there awkwardly, looking about him at what he now knows is Jack’s living room. The place is small, but cozy, and very neat and tidy. At the far end of the room, there are some tall bookshelves, which are very full, beside a desk with a computer and telephone on it. Before the large, stone fireplace, there is a rough-hewn log coffee table sitting on a woven rug of some Native American origin. The sofa bears the same red, black, and green pattern, as do the smaller rugs in the entry and hallway. The coffee table and end tables match each other, too, and there are several framed paintings of lake scenery on the walls. Gabe guesses the house must have come furnished. He can’t imagine a man of Jack’s age choosing this type of décor on his own. Jack throws a switch to activate the gas, and the fireplace blazes to life.

“It’ll warm up in here pretty quickly,” he says, hanging his hat over a peg on the mantel. “The fireplace has a backburner that heats the whole house. We should probably dry your clothes, while we’re here.”

Gabe is suddenly, painfully aware that he is dripping water all over Jack’s spotless dark-wood floor. He shifts his feet in the puddle he has created. “I’d love to do that, but I don’t actually have a change in my pack. I left most of my gear in the jeep.”

“That’s alright,” Jack says brightly. “I’ve got a spare bathrobe you can borrow while they dry.”

Gabe can’t help but laugh. Of course he does. He thanks his host again and follows him to the bathroom, growing increasingly suspicious that this is some kind of dream. A man like Jack simply can’t exist in this world. He’s handsome, capable, intelligent, kind, hospitable, and prepared for everything. He’s literally the perfect man. And now Gabe is in his perfect bathroom in his perfect little cabin, peeling out of his cold, wet clothes and putting on a soft, plushy bathrobe that smells like some kind of pleasant laundry detergent.

When he emerges from the bathroom, the fire is roaring merrily, the rich aroma of coffee is wafting in from the kitchen, and Jack is standing there in a white t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants, smiling and holding out his hands to take Gabe’s wet clothes. There’s only one explanation for this. He’s dead. He died in the night and this is heaven.

“I’m going to put these in the dryer and pour us some of that coffee,” Jack says. “Make yourself at home.”

Gabe sits down on the sofa and looks around. He notices the crossword he gave Jack yesterday sitting on the coffee table. He picks it up and is glancing over it, when Jack comes back with two steaming mugs of coffee. He sets one in front of Gabe and seats himself in the wood chair across from the sofa.

“Are you sure you don’t mind my imposing?” Gabe says. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

“Not at all. I’m not on duty today, anyway. I only went up to the lookout for the Junior Ranger talk.”

“Oh. It’s really kind of you to do all this for me on your day off.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jack says, gazing out the window. “It’s really coming down out there. I haven’t seen rain like this in July since…well, ever.”

“Yeah, it’s just my luck. Maybe I brought it with me,” Gabe says. He replaces the paper on the coffee table and picks up the mug. “You didn’t even start your crossword puzzle.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t have time. There were some hikers that needed help last night, and I was working pretty late. I figured I’d save it for a rainy day, ironically.”

“What did they need?”

“They were climbing in a restricted area and one of them slipped on the wet rocks and fell about twenty feet. Broke his leg and dislocated his left shoulder. I was on the scene first, so I called for search and rescue and waited with him till they airlifted him out.”

Gabe stares at him in awe. “Holy shit, that’s what you were doing last night?”

“Yes. What?”

“When most people say they were working late, they mean sitting at a desk. You were out saving lives. That’s…heroic.”

“You Special Forces guys are heroes, not me,” Jack says, frowning down at his mug. “My job must seem pretty trivial to you.”

“It doesn’t seem trivial to me at all. You were in the military. You know what we do isn’t that different from what you do.”

“It is, though. The most dangerous thing I deal with is bad weather. You guys actually fight real wars. I didn’t even do that when I was in the military. I had a tech job and I benchwarmed during the second Gulf War. Never even went overseas. I just did my tour and then I came home. There’s nothing heroic or even exceptional about that.”

“Did you do your duty honorably and to the best of your ability?”

Jack nods, still gazing down into his mug. “Every day.”

“Then you should be proud of your service, Jack,” Gabe says earnestly. “The most courageous thing you can do is sign on that dotted line and agree that, should it be required of you, you are prepared to give your life in service of your country. The fact that it wasn’t required of you isn’t up to you. You were willing. That’s all that matters.”

“I…thank you, Gabe,” Jack says, with a hint of a tremor audible in his voice. “That means a lot to me.”

Gabe gazes at the increasingly complex and fascinating man across the table. There is so much more to Ranger Jack than that blonde hair and square jaw and athlete’s body. He wishes he could dig down into the core of this man and study every particle of him. Find out everything there is to know about him and truly understand him.

“So, where are you stationed?” Jack asks, after a long silence.

“Fort Campbell, in Kentucky.”

“Wow, that’s all the way across the country. When do you go back?”

Gabe leans back and sips his coffee. “Well…I don’t, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“My tour ended and I didn’t re-up. I’m technically still on active duty, but I’m on terminal leave till the end of my term of service, which is in two weeks.”

Jack looks at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Was it—” he begins, but breaks off, apparently having changed his mind. “What are you going to do after that?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll be staying with my sister in L.A. while I look for a place, and then…who knows.” Gabe is fairly certain he knows what Jack had been about to ask, so he answers the unspoken question. “After my buddy was killed in Afghanistan, I didn’t have the heart to do it anymore. I’ve already seen enough death to last a lifetime, and I’m only thirty-seven. I figured I’d get out before I’m too old to do anything else, and see what’s out there.”

“I’m so sorry about your friend,” Jack says quietly.

“He agreed to give his life in service of his country, if it was required of him, just like we did. It was required of him.”

They sit in silence again, listening to the rain beating steadily on the roof and windows, and the low rumble of thunder in the distance. There is something so vivid and poignant in this moment, warm and safe in Jack’s little cabin, while the storm rages outside, that Gabe can’t shake the feeling that he’s being drawn toward something. As if some invisible force has been gently, irresistibly guiding him to this place and time. The idea thrills and terrifies him. He looks up to find that Jack is looking at him, too. Jack turns away quickly, with that soft flush of rosy pink rising into his cheeks again.

Gabe smiles. “You really love what you do, don’t you, Jack.”

“More than anything in the world.”

“Then don’t ever call it trivial. It isn’t. The world needs the kind of heroes who work hard every day to make it a better place to live in. That’s what you do.”

“Thank you, Gabe,” Jack says. “I’ll remember that.”

“So, hey, we’ve still got that crossword and it’s about as rainy a day as it gets. You want to do it together?”

Jack smiles. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

He gets up and moves to the sofa beside Gabe, and they set to work solving the first clue. As they are working on the fifteenth or thereabouts (they haven’t really gone in order), Gabe gradually becomes aware of something. Silence. He realizes that this means the rain that has been pattering on the roof has stopped. Jack looks up at the ceiling. He has noticed it too. Gabe’s heart sinks.

“Well, I guess I better grab my clothes,” he says reluctantly, setting down the pencil.

Jack’s gaze drifts down from the ceiling to meet his. “I…don’t think it’s safe yet.”

Gabe’s heart skips about a dozen beats, but he manages a smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack says gravely. “It’s always better to err on the side of caution. I mean, you could slip in the mud and injure yourself, and then I’d just have to come right back out and help you. You should definitely stay a little while longer.”

Gabe can hardly breathe. Everything inside him is screaming for him to grab Jack and kiss him, but he can’t take a risk like that while he’s sitting here in the man’s house wearing his robe. It was one thing when he could have just walked away. It’s entirely different now. There would be awkward apologies and changing clothes and weird silences and _Jesus Christ Jack’s hand is on his knee_.

Gabe looks stupidly down at Jack’s hand, then back up into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Gabe, this may be totally inappropriate, but…I’d really like to—”

“Yes,” Gabe interrupts.

Jack blinks, then laughs. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t care. That’s a universal yes. Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, Jack.”

“Wow. I was just going to ask if I could kiss you, but anything? Now I have to think about it.”

“Jack, kiss me,” Gabe says. He takes the the blonde Park Ranger by his wrists and pulls him closer. “Kiss me right the fuck now.”

“That’s not very polite, Gabe,” Jack grins, letting himself be encircled in Gabe’s arms and pressed into his chest. “Didn’t your mother teach you please and thank you?”

“Please,” Gabe breathes. His lips are almost touching Jack’s now. He can feel his warm breath on his face. “Kiss me, Jack.”

Jack’s soft lips barely brush his, lingering on the very edge for an excruciating moment, then their mouths are pressed together ravenously, wildly, with all the desperate abandon and exhilarating newness of a first kiss. Jack swings his leg over to straddle Gabe’s lap, and Gabe’s hands slide up under his t-shirt, clinging tightly to his smooth, muscular back, as they kiss and caress each other.

When Jack pulls away to catch his breath, his pupils are blown wide, almost swallowing the color in his blue irises. His cheeks are flushed and he smiles shyly, with wet, pouting lips. Gabe is gazing dreamily into his face, thinking that this is the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen, when Jack cranes his neck and looks down between them.

“Wow,” he says. “You have a concealed carry permit for that?”

Gabe follows his eyes to find that his robe has slipped open and he is rather indecently exposed.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, reaching down hastily to cover himself. “I didn’t mean to—the robe just—”

Jack catches his wrist and stops him. “Let me get that for you.”

Gabe watches in breathless astonishment as Jack slides down and pushes his knees apart to kneel between them. “I…Jack, you don’t have to—”

Jack grins up at him, with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “I keep telling you, I’m happy to help.”

“You…oh!” Gabe gasps, as Jack’s warm, wet mouth closes over the head of his cock.

He lolls back into the sofa cushions and gives a soft groan. Jack strokes him slowly, sucking him in and then pulling back, teasing and flicking the head with his tongue, till Gabe is nearly out of his mind. Then abruptly, Jack stops and stands up. Gabe hisses as cold air washes over his wet shaft.

“Why’d you—what’s wrong?” he says, blinking blearily up at Jack.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jack smiles. “I’m going to grab some lube. I want to have sex with you.”

“Wait, you want to—hang on a second,” Gabe calls after him, as he disappears down the hall. He reemerges in a moment with a little black bottle. “You want to have sex with me?”

“Yes. Is that ok?”

“Fuck yeah, it’s ok. It’s just, we never talked about…you know…who puts what where.”

“I’d like you to top, if you don’t mind,” Jack says. He pulls his white t-shirt off over his head, revealing a chest and abs that could go on the cover of Men’s Fitness. “But I’m ok with either.”

Gabe curses under his breath as Jack’s red plaid pajama pants, under which he has apparently been wearing nothing, drop to the floor. Jack’s cock is perfect, too. Not as long or as girthy as his own, but unequivocally gorgeous. Rigid and straight and circumcised, so the ruddy, round head is exposed and glistening. His mouth waters at the thought of sucking it. Letting Jack choke him on it and come down his throat. But he wants to be inside him so badly he thinks he might actually die.

“Christ, you’re so beautiful,” Gabe rasps. His throat is suddenly tight and he swallows hard. “Will you…will you ride me, so I can look at you?”

“Absolutely,” Jack says, with a devilish grin. “But I’ll need some prep first. Your dick is…a little scary.”

“Scary?” Gabe says dubiously. “What’s wrong with my dick?”

“I’m sure you’re fully aware of your size, Gabe.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not _scary_ ,” Gabe grumbles. “It’s _impressive_.”

“Impressive, then,” Jack laughs, kneeling on the sofa to straddle his lap. “But I’ve never been with anyone with piercings. I’m kind of worried that they’ll hurt.”

“I promise they won’t. They’re there for…well, I think you’ll understand when you feel them.”

Jack opens the cap of the lube and liberally drizzles Gabes fingers. He holds onto Gabe’s shoulders as Gabe slides a finger around the rim of his asshole, and then pushes it slowly inside. When he feels Jack’s muscles begin to relax and give way, Gabe slides the second finger inside. He watches Jack’s face raptly, savoring each flutter of his eyes and soft gasp through his parted lips. Jack moans and his eyes roll shut as Gabe stretches him patiently, working his fingers in and out, opening him up till he’s clenching and grinding his hips, cock swollen and drooling onto Gabe’s stomach.

“I’m ready, Gabe,” Jack purrs. “I want you now.”

Gabe withdraws his fingers and takes Jack’s ass in both hands to spread him open, as Jack slicks Gabe’s cock with lube. He guides it with his hand as he begins to lower himself onto it. Gabe watches Jack with hazy, heavy lidded eyes as his tight, squeezing heat envelops the head of his aching cock.

Jack’s eyes snap open and he gasps as the first barbell in Gabe’s Jacob’s Ladder pops through the tight opening. “Holy—holy fuck! That’s what they’re for.”

“Five more,” Gabe says, his voice low and hoarse. “Think you can take all of them?”

Jack appears to take this as a challenge. Keeping his blue eyes fixed on Gabe’s, he pushes himself down slowly until all six barbells have passed his tight ring of muscle, and Gabe is seated firmly inside him, all the way to the base. His chest is flushed pink and he is already beginning to perspire.

“Christ, Jack,” Gabe rasps. He is hanging on for dear life, straining with all his will against the urge to thrust. “You’re so—fucking tight. Fuck!”

“Sorry,” Jack says, smiling self-consciously. “It’s, uh…been a while.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gabe grunts. “Just—don’t move yet. I need a minute.”

Jack holds dutifully still, watching Gabe’s face as he manages to breathe through it and get himself centered. He nods, and Jack begins to roll his hips, rocking slowly up and down on his rigid shaft. Gabe has to pause mentally several times and remind himself that this is actually happening. He’s actually in an isolated cabin with the blonde Park Ranger, actually fucking him. Yep. He definitely died and this is definitely heaven.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Gabe says hoarsely. “I want to make you come first, though.”

“I’m really…ah! really close,” Jack pants. He is working his muscular thighs, beads of sweat rolling down his face and chest as he rides Gabe’s cock. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

Gabe takes Jack’s hip in one hand and his cock in the other, stroking him feverishly as he pounds up into him. Jack arches his back and gives a strangled cry. His insides clamp down and his cock spasms in Gabe’s hand, spurting white streaks all over Gabe’s stomach. Gabe hangs on, pulling Jack down onto his cock as he thrusts up into him. The aching tension in his balls builds to a pinnacle and then bursts, cock throbbing as he pumps Jack’s convulsing hole full of warm, slippery fluid.

Jack curls into Gabe’s chest and buries his face in the crook of his neck. Gabe lies there catching his breath, lazily stroking Jack’s back and shoulders, and basking in the post-climax euphoria. He hopes Jack won’t expect him to go right away, now that they’ve fucked. He can’t bear the thought of the cold, damp woods, compared to the silky warmth of Jack’s skin on his.

They have been lying together like this for a long while, when it occurs to Gabe that Jack has fallen asleep. He cranes his neck back to look into his face. Jack stirs and makes a little noise of protest, but his eyes remain closed. Gabe smiles and wraps him up more securely in his arms, content to let him sleep as long as he wants. There is nowhere either of them needs to be but here. Not today, at least.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The summer season at Crater Lake National Park has always been Jack’s favorite, for many reasons. The snow melts, the sky clears, and the sun shines down on the pristine waters of the impossibly blue lake, set like a sapphire in the center of its massive volcanic caldera. He loves the lake, the trees, the sky, and the mountains. Most of all, he loves the people.

The park is a lot less lonely when it’s full of enthusiastic visitors, all come to enjoy the natural splendor of the place that is so dear to Jack’s heart. Last summer, one of those people had been a man named Gabriel Reyes, an ex-soldier mourning his deceased brother-at-arms. Jack had never expected to meet someone like Gabe, and he’s certain he never will again.

Today, Jack is leaning on the log railing outside the fire lookout on Watchman Peak, gazing out over the majestic lake, and thinking fondly of that day last July, when he met Gabe at the backcountry campground on Grouse Hill. The memory fills his chest with a tender ache. They had stood here together on a morning just like this and looked out at the lake, after Jack had talked to the Junior Rangers. Then the thunderstorm had driven them into Jack’s ranger station, and then…and then.

His reverie is interrupted by the clamor of feet stomping up the stairs, and young voices chattering boisterously. Jack steps inside to greet the Junior Rangers, who have come for his lake history talk.

“Alright, everyone,” the ranger who is attempting to keep them organized says. “Let’s all sit down and say hello to Ranger Jack. He’s going to talk to us about the history of Crater Lake. Pay attention, because this will be on the Junior Ranger quiz later.”

Jack stands before the window and waits politely as the children crowd around and get themselves seated. When they’re reasonably quiet, he begins.

“Good morning, Junior Rangers,” he says cheerfully. “I hope you’re all very good listeners, because Crater Lake has a very interesting history. But first, how about we all say a big thank you to our Junior Ranger trail leader.” He smiles across the room at his colleague, who is leaning on the wall behind the group of children. “Thank you, Ranger Gabe!”

 

 


End file.
